There ain't no word for it
by ThymekeNerada
Summary: My take on the characters of Sean Cooper and Jimmy Bruno from the Cold Case episode "Forever Blue". I always thought that we got so many hints in the few actual lines of dialogue included in the episode which point to the many deep layers of these fascinating characters. I kind of felt the need to explore them a little.


**Philadelphia, July 7th, 1968**

Cooper still lingers in aisle of the church when his father finds him. He had felt the need to be alone, that's why he stayed back here. He knows that what happened was bound to happen, but that doesn't mean it's not hurting like hell.

After the christening, he had gone looking for Jimmy, and found him in one of the side-aisles, lighting a lamp and adding it to the row of lamps on the stand. "There you are. I didn't know you were the religious type," Cooper joked. When Jimmy didn't react and just stood there with his back towards him, shoulders slumped, Cooper felt a shiver of unease run over his body. He softly touched Jimmy's shoulder and said "You all right?"

Jimmy turned to face him. He had his eyebrows pulled up in a worried frown."You think that Eileen knows somethin'?"

This took Cooper by surprise. He struggled to keep an air of nonchalance. "Why'd you think that?" he asked.

"The look she gave you today…"

Cooper shook his head and shrugged. "Nah. Don't be silly. Your wife was angry at me for bein' late. That's why she shot me that witherin' look." He swallowed back the dread that build up in his throat. Jimmy mustn't know that Eileen had seen them in the backyard. If he knew, he'd run on Cooper, that was dead certain.

"You think?" Jimmy asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, sure," Cooper replied, giving Jimmy a impish grin. He racked his brain for a joke he could crack to lighten the mood, but for what felt like the first time in his life, he could think of absolutely nothing to say. A drop of sweat trickled down his temple.

"I don't know… " Jimmy exhaled nervously. "Ok, suppose she doesn't know a thing. That still ain't makin' it right."

Cooper sighed. Somehow he'd know all along that they'd have this conversation eventually. He still preferred to pretend he didn't. "What d'you mean?"

Jimmy looked around the hallway like an animal somebody had trapped. "It's unnatural."

Cooper felt a ball of anger forming in his belly. "No, it ain't."

"Two men shouldn't be doin' what we are doin'. It ain't right."

"The hell it is! What are you tryin' to say here? That we're unnatural freaks, that's what you're sayin'?" Cooper cried. He immediately regretted having said that. Jimmy got that apprehensive look he always had when he pulled away from Cooper, ever so little. But Cooper found it increasingly hard to keep himself in check when anger was scorching his intestines. Jimmy's incessant doubt was wearing on him. One moment he'd be all Cooper's, all fun and tenderness, and the next he'd pull away and say that they had to break it off, he'd got no choice. It was driving Cooper crazy, the fear that from one moment to another, Jimmy might just be gone.

After the first wave of anger had washed over him, the fear took over and sobered him. His voice no more than a soft whisper, he continued: "What I mean to say is, this thing, why d'you have to put a name to it? There ain't no proper word. Unnatural?" Cooper shook his head. "Does it feel unnatural to you when the two of us are together?"

Jimmy avoided Cooper's gaze. His eyes fixed on the floor, he gave a small shake of his head, almost imperceptible.

Emboldened, Cooper got more insistent: "That sure as hell ain't the word I'd use. Let me be totally frank here with you. Nothin' in my life has ever felt so… natural."

An small, dry sob now escaped from Jimmy's throat. Cooper crossed the distance between them and put his hand on Jimmy's shoulder. He let his thumb caress the bare skin of his partner's neck, never caring if somebody might see them. Jimmy shuddered under Cooper's touch, and gave him that look he had given him the night he had kissed Cooper back: the look of a man drowning and yearning to be saved.

Cooper knew about the agony his partner was feeling, but he couldn't stop himself anymore. The words rolled out of his mouth with a will of their own. "I know it ain't right, but… I got no other word. The only thing that comes to my mind is that what I'm feeling for you is…" He hesitated. The corners of his mouth curled up in a sad smile. "Love."

He'd used the word they'd both been afraid of. It stood between them, large and irrevocable. Cooper knew that he'd probably made a mistake, but he would've had to say it eventually. It was what he felt. It had come to him as a surprise, and it had taken him these past months to own up to it. After the war, he hadn't even thought he was still capable of that feeling.

"You gone nuts, Coop?" Jimmy hissed. He pulled away from Cooper in an abrupt move. Panic rose in his voice. "I ain't listenin' to that kind of crap. I'm a married man! You get right in your head, or else there's nothin' left to say between us anymore."

Cooper was taken aback with the fierceness of Jimmy's reaction. But he wasn't ready to back off just yet. "I ain't taking back what I said."

Jimmy stared at him defiantly. But he couldn't hide from Cooper just how much desperation there was to his defiance.

"Jimmy, please…" Cooper begged.

But Jimmy completely closed himself off to Cooper's imploring voice. Instead, he just said "Eileen and the kids are waitin'. I gotta go," and hurried off.

Cooper wanted to shout after him: "You lyin' bastard! You were the one who kissed me back while lookin' at me as if you were drownin'," but he didn't. He'd have alienated Jimmy even more.

He still stands there, back to the wall, hands in his pockets, when Sarge finds him.

"I don't believe the load of crap that Owen Murphy just told me," his father starts. He tries to sound amused, but he is far more distressed than he wants to let on, Cooper can see that.

He doesn't react right away. He knows he should probably be more worried, but he has not fight left inside of him. His attempt at plain talking with Jimmy has drained him of that. All he can eventually muster is a weak "Yeah?"

His father rubs his nose. He is visibly embarrassed. "Yeah, he…he said that you and Jimmy are ah…" A long silence follows. His father struggles to continue. He probably expects Cooper to vigorously repudiate and reassure him that everything was just a big misunderstanding. Cooper averts his gaze. He's through with lies. He's through with denying what he feels.

His father's voice takes on a dismissive tone. "Ah forget about it, it ain't even worth discussin'," he placates. Cooper is wearily nodding along with his father's words. He's so tired.

"Sure," he confirms. At the same time he already knows that his father won't be able to let it go, not until Cooper has fully disavowed the accusations made against him. His lips trace a bitter smile, just before another wave of pain surges over him, and all he can do is swallow hard to push it back down.

"He's crazy. Right, son?"

Cooper searches his father's gaze and looks him straight into the eyes for long seconds. He realizes that as much as he loves his father, Cooper can't make himself utter the disavowal Sarge so desperately wants to hear. All he's got left inside of himself is straight and honest truth. He takes a deep breath and says: "You really wanna talk about this, pop?"

Something inside his father breaks. It registers in his eyes. But he still makes another attempt to reach out to his son. His voice hoarse, he offers: "You need to find a new partner."

Cooper rejects the offer. "Jimmy's good," he declares.

"Jimmy Bruno is a sick, disgusting son of a bitch."

That's too much for Cooper. Why is everybody so intent on making him deny what he feels is right, and good? There it is again, the ball of anger raging in his belly."No, he's not," Cooper blurts out in a determined voice.

"You've been led astray," his father rationalizes.

Cooper wants to laugh in his father's face for that jackass comment. His eyebrows snap together in a deep frown. "No one leads _me_. You of all people know that, pop."

"You're my son. You can't… You can't be a…," his father gasps. It takes Cooper all his determination, but he won't flinch or look away. It hurts him to see the rising contempt in his father's eyes. "We raised you right!" his father spits, accusation heavy in his voice.

"It has nothing to do with you," Cooper manages to say, while his voice breaks off on the last word.

His father pierces him with a hate-filled look. "You are not going to disgrace our family. The force."

"Quit lookin' at me like that, pop. Please." He is begging for the second time today. But he can't help it. He feels all the pain and the desperation crash on him for the second time today. Why is everybody so sent on bending and breaking him? He feels so utterly helpless.

His father does not relent. "I thought you were a man," he growls, laying as much disdain as he can muster into these words.

"I am," Cooper flings back. He's beyond begging now.

"No you are not. And you're not my son neither," his father spits, then turns on his heels and storms off.

Cooper does not attempt to stop him. It's not in his powers to do anything now. He is lost to his father. He tries to swallow back the lump that has formed in his throat, but he doesn't succeed and feel as if he's about to suffocate from it. His eyes burn, and he blinks several times, never admitting to himself that he's actually blinking back tears.

A cop's reputation is all he has, his father likes to say. That's why for his father there is no doubt about what Cooper needs to do. But what his father does not understand is that Cooper can't possibly leave Jimmy. Next to his job, Jimmy is the only thing that keeps him from going mental. Coming back from the war, Cooper has had a tough time to find his way back into his old life. Jimmy's remark that night hit closer to home than Cooper likes to admit. He does miss that free pass to kill. But it isn't like Jimmy thinks. He didn't enjoy slaughtering Vietcong. Not that. But knowing friend from foe, knowing what was right and what was wrong, that brought order to a world that otherwise seemed to drown in chaos and blood. You knew what to do and you didn't feel so helpless anymore. The same kind of order he found in his job, busting shins. "Everything is always black and white with you," Jimmy had said. But what is so wrong with that? Better than all the shades of grey you find once you probe too deeply. A man can lose his sanity that way. Coop saw it in Vietnam. Many nights after he'd come back, waking up from a nightmare, drenched in his own sour sweat, he'd thought he might lose it, too. But then there had been Jimmy. Somehow everything got easier when he was around. Suddenly there was something to look forward to, a reason to get out of bed in the mornings. He hardly has nightmares these days. Never when Jimmy crashes at his place for the night.

He cannot give that up.

**A few days later**

They are doing night shift today. Cooper is leaning against the police car awaiting orders. Jimmy stands a little distance off, talking to a rookie. The lieutenant comes towards him. Cooper pushes away from the car to face McCree.

"You two stick close in North Philly tonight. Been gettin' armed robbery calls from under the bridge," McCree says seriously.

Cooper gives a nod and swings one arm. "Send the bad guys," he jests.

McCree chuckles. "I'll try and scare some up for you." He gives Cooper a chummy pat on the arm, then heads back to the police station.

Cooper walks towards the driver's side. He turns to look for his partner, but Jimmy is staring after Murphy. When Jimmy finally moves, he walks towards the car hesitantly. He stops in front of the engine hood and looks around awkwardly.

Cooper is getting impatient. He points towards the car: "You gettin' in or what?"

"I think I'm gonna take out a rookie," Jimmy replies casually.

Cooper chuckles. When Jimmy does not react, the smile on Cooper's face freezes. "Serious?"

"Yeah," Jimmy confirms.

Cooper purses his lips and nods in agreement. The lieutenant said they were supposed to stick together, but Cooper won't press Jimmy. He makes to get into the car, remarking airily: "I'll pick up some beer. Meet you after."

"I can't make it tonight," Jimmy blurts out.

Cooper has a sinking feeling. He lets go of the door handle and walks towards Jimmy. "Why not?" he asks, dumbfounded.

He can see now that Jimmy is nervous. "Maybe it's time for a change."

"What kind of change?" Cooper asks suspiciously.

The anxious look on Jimmy's face disappears, and he says resolutely: "I wasn't thinking right when we talked. But I haven't been right for a long time."

Cooper stares at him in disbelief. His eyes narrow as he asks:"What's goin' on Jimmy?"

"I'm not gonna be makin' it over to your place no more." Jimmy says in the same, firm voice. Cooper refuses to believe what he's heard. He closes his eyes and drops his head. This can't be true, this can't be happenin'!, shoots through his head. Jimmy continues gruffly: "Just get a new partner."

Cooper can't remember ever feeling so wretched in his life. "You afraid?" he asks in low voice„ almost inaudible.

"It's got nothin' to do with that," Jimmy replies breathlessly.

"I'm afraid, too," Cooper whispers. And he is. He has never been so scared in his life. He doesn't fear social ostracism. Instead, the war taught him another fear. A fear that gnaws on your bones and eats away at your very being: the fear of losing the people you care about. He just lost his father. Losing Jimmy… that is too much for him. Why does everybody leave him?

Jimmy's is unable to keep his composure. "Look, I gotta get going," he says hectically and turns to leave.

Cooper makes a desperate attempt."Jimmy. Don't go. Please," he begs. He's done a lot of begging recently, but he has never felt as anxious as now. Jimmy turns back and gives him a distraught look. So many feelings well up in Cooper, but if he even began to put them into words, Jimmy would take flight. Close to tears, he croaks."We are the lucky ones, remember?"

It takes Jimmy a while to react. Different emotions are jostling for precedence on his face."I think you got it wrong there," he finally says. He leans towards Cooper and growls: "I ain't a queer." Then he takes off.

Cooper freezes with hurt and shock. He is torn between the pain of rejection and white-hot anger. The anger wins out. Jimmy said that as if to set himself apart from Cooper, when in reality, he was just not able to be straight with himself and admit what deep down he knew to be the truth. Cooper gets into the car and starts the engine. He refuses to take another look at Jimmy while he dashes off. But then, just before the precinct gets out of sight, he takes one last look into the rear view mirror, and there he sees Jimmy staring after him…

As he walks away, Jimmy immediately knows he has made a big mistake. He has hurt Cooper badly. He didn't want that. Cooper is right, why the need to put a word to what they feel for each other? Queer or not, one thing is certain for Jimmy: he doesn't want to lose Coop.

When he hears the engine start, panic washes over him. He was wrong, he wants to be with Cooper. "Coop!" he shouts, but it's too late. Cooper is gone. Jimmy starts to fret. What was he supposed to do? If Murphy knew, who else knew? If he had gotten in that car, it was like the whole world was gonna know. What he is. He ain't ready for that.

Later, in the patrol car, Jimmy is miserable. He misses being with Cooper. He thinks back to the conversation they had in the church. And even further back to the conversation they had in the precinct, when Cooper had told him they were the lucky ones. He'd refused to listen. He was too afraid. But now he realizes that all he wants is to be with Cooper. And yeah, if he tries to put a name to it, maybe Cooper was not too far off the mark. Maybe it really is… love.

When he hears that Cooper is going to take on a robber all by himself, he feels nervous and guilty. He should have been with Cooper. He prays to God that Coop will be all right. He refuses to consider the alternative.

The radio crackles. "Officer down. East end of the bridge at Diamond. I been hit. Two shots outta nowhere," announces a laboured voice.

It takes Jimmy a moment to recognize it. His heart skips a beat."That's Coop. Floor it!" he shouts. The rookie speeds up and switches on the siren.

Jimmy hears strained breathing over the radio. "Jimmy, you out there?"

Jimmy's hand shoots to the radio phone: "I'm here man. Hang on." He wants to say so many things. Don't die on me, Coop, please. I've just now realized that you were right all along, we are the lucky ones. You can't die on me now. That's not fair. Don't leave me alone. I love you back.

But he says none of these things. How can he, over the radio? Instead, he shouts: "Coop!".

A groan. "Jimmy," Cooper gasps. It's obvious that he's in a lot of pain.

"Keep talking. We're almost there," Jimmy says, trying to reassure his partner. He panics when Cooper does not reply. "You hear me? Coop?" he shouts, the terror in his voice rising

Then Cooper does reply. One last time."We were the lucky ones. Don't forget that."

Jimmy is going out of his mind with fear."Coop?" he shouts."Coop?!"

But he gets no answer.

When they reach the bridge, Cooper is already dead. He's splattered in blood, radio in his hand, eyes wide open. Jimmy is useless on the crime scene. The rookie has to handle everything on his own.

When the grief threatens to drive him crazy, Jimmy goes back into a state of denial. Coop and him, they'd been good pals. None of them were "like that", not at all. A man can mourn his partner, can't he? It doesn't save his marriage though. Everything reminds him of Cooper. At first, Eileen makes him sleep on the couch in the living room. In the end, she files for divorce.

Jimmy eventually settles down in his loneliness and learns to go through the motions without thinking of Cooper over much.

It takes 38 years and a female cop from a dedicated cold case squad to make him finally say it. His voice is hoarse, and tears well up in his eyes. "I miss him." And he knows that Coop would have understood that in their shared language, that actually means: "I love you, too."


End file.
